


Rag Doll

by subplotter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellamy PoV, Daddy Kink, Daddy!Jaha, M/M, Not in a smutty way though, little!Murphy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 17:59:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3298883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subplotter/pseuds/subplotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the following, sent by <a href="http://fourmovesahead.tumblr.com">fourmovesahead</a>: "You should never shut up about daddy dom Bellamy Blake. Also along those lines: a Bellamy who doesn't know he wants to be a daddy dom until he gets Murphy back, and Murphy's been spoilt by Jaha and that's all he wants now."</p><p>Disclaimer: I'm not personally into Daddy Kink or the Big/little dynamic. I know a bit about it, but am definitely not an expert or anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rag Doll

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://somebodysmonster.tumblr.com) if you feel so inclined :)

Bellamy feels like a ghost. Nothing is how it used to be. Not even the consistent parts, like hitting his knuckles against Murphy's insubordinate fucking face when they're reunited. This time, Murphy comes quietly, and he gives him a small smile and a nod, and all the while he's got Jaha's hand on his shoulder. Jaha who doesn't die. Jaha who pardons. Jaha who comes back from this "City of Light" promising hope for everyone.

Bellamy knows it's bullshit. There's no hope. He keeps trying to save everyone, and they're alive, but everyone's so tired. Everyone's lost their innocence, that bright white thing Bellamy can't help but cling to. It's why he's drawn to children. It's why he has to put effort into being proud of Octavia even though he should do so effortlessly. She looks hard in her eyes. It isn't right.

Jaha was always delusional, though. Except Murphy _isn't_ delusional, and he's got this light in his eyes now that just seems off. Like he's been brainwashed. Something about this whole City of Light business just doesn't sit well with Bellamy.

He wants to get to the bottom of it. He wants to talk to Murphy about it, but Murphy's never alone. He clings to Jaha's side like some puppy, and Bellamy knows that's his fault. Murphy used to do that with him. Maybe Bellamy was too mean. Murphy went overboard, yeah, but maybe he was just calling out for attention like kids do sometimes, when they throw tantrums. Not that what he's done is forgivable by any means, but Bellamy was getting there. He was giving him responsibilities. Then he had to go to Mt. Weather, and Murphy disappeared.

When Bellamy finally does get him alone, it still feels off. He catches him on the way to get some moonshine, while Jaha and his other "followers" are all at a table together, laughing and smiling. It's eerie. Bellamy grips Murphy at the elbow.

Murphy doesn't seem to mind. "Bellamy. What's up?" He says it brightly.

Bellamy wants to hit him in the face and remind him who he is. "I want to talk to you."

"About?"

"The City of Light." Bellamy drops his hand from Murphy's arm.

Murphy smiles softly. "Jaha will tell you."

"I don't want to talk to Jaha."

"Oh, lighten up. He's not so bad once you get to know him."

Bellamy's expression twists. He can't _believe_ what he's hearing. "Murphy, Jaha's a quack. Always has been."

Murphy crunches his brows together. The brightness leaves his eyes. "No, he isn't."

"Yeah, he is."

Murphy scoffs, turning his eyes away and then back. "You just love writing people off, don't you, Bellamy. Jaha's nice to me. The City of Light is real. Stop being a fucking jerk like always."

Bellamy doesn't stop him as he walks away. But he does watch him for a few moments. Long enough to see him sit down, and to see Jaha pull him close with a hand against his head and kiss his temple.

*******

Bellamy doesn't mean to care about this so much, but it bothers him. Whenever he sees them together, it's like there's an itch under his skin. Murphy looks so _happy._ Jaha looks happy, too. That's the part that really gets Bellamy. Jaha getting to do all that. Jaha getting to put a reassuring hand on Murphy's body, make him so different like this, make him light and calm and the opposite of the dark, vengeful thing Bellamy turned him into. It's Bellamy's fault all those kids died. If only he'd done these things. These little gestures, these wholesome kisses. Bellamy used to do that with Octavia, it wouldn't be any different.

It sounds so stupid, though. This isn't something to be dealt with. There are more important matters to attend to, like whether or not it's actually a reasonable decision to follow Jaha to the City of Light. (Because Bellamy's biased, probably, about all this, and leaders can't make biased decisions. They have to make educated ones.)

He buries it. He tries to bury it. It isn't like Bellamy Blake doesn't have practice not dealing with his emotions. But then he witnesses something private. He knows it's private, because he gets this nervous, nauseous feeling in his stomach, except Jaha and Murphy aren't in a tent or anything. They're just at the edge of the camp, at the tree that Murphy used to practice throwing knives on.

Bellamy's carrying firewood. He's holding it up on his shoulder, but he stops his feet when he sees Jaha and Murphy, huddled close together. There's something between them. It looks like a doll. And Jaha seems to be handing it over, like a gift.

Bellamy moves behind a tree a few feet away. He very quietly sets down his firewood, and the two seem so wrapped up in each other that they don't notice him.

"What's this?" says Murphy, smiling with his brows cinched, his fingers closing around the doll. It's made of strips of fabric. A rag doll. Bellamy knows all about rag dolls. He used to make them for Octavia. She could never have real dolls unless Bellamy stole them for her, and most of the time, that just wasn't worth the risk.

"It's for you," says Jaha. He looks damn pleased with himself. He's smiling like he always smiles, serenely arrogant. He leans forward and kisses Murphy on the forehead, his big hand slid against the back of his skull.

Bellamy remembers Murphy with gun and a strip of red belt. Bellamy remembers Murphy with bloody scratches down his face, bruises under his eyes from Bellamy's fists. Rope burn around his throat. Murphy looks so innocent holding that doll, and for just a moment, Bellamy feels like the ground isn't there. Which is dramatic and fucked but he feels it. Because he's seen Murphy look innocent too, with those same belts bunched in his hands, breathing through his mouth.

Bellamy always has such good intentions. He always fails. He's never done right by anyone, most glaringly Murphy. He can't blame him for being this way with Jaha. He can't--he can't blame him.

When Murphy looks up at Jaha, it's with big eyes. They aren't so dead, aren't so distant. Not like usual. And he speaks in a soft voice--so soft Bellamy almost thinks he's hearing it wrong. "Thank you, Daddy."

Bellamy feels vaguely ill.

"You're welcome, John."

And it isn't because it's disgusting. Bellamy's pretty sure he should think it's disgusting, but he doesn't. Not even when Jaha presses Murphy gently against the tree. He tries to kiss him, but Murphy doesn't let him. He seems reluctant to do it in public. He looks around.

His eyes lock on Bellamy. Or they lock on what parts of Bellamy they can see, but it's obvious he's been caught, and Bellamy turns away without his firewood, walking quickly.

Murphy catches up. "Hey," he says sternly. _"Hey."_

Bellamy doesn't stop. Not until Murphy's gripping his elbow. Bellamy looks back, checking for Jaha, but it seems he's left Murphy to deal with this on his own.

Murphy's still holding the rag doll in his other hand. "You got a problem?" he says.

"No," says Bellamy emphatically.

"Then why were you watching us? Did we give you a hard-on, Bellamy?"

His tone is sharp. It seems to burrow into Bellamy's stomach, making his nausea more pronounced. "No. I was just--"

"What. Jealous?" Murphy's voice is high with feeling. It scrapes into Bellamy's head.

"No."

"Really? Because it seems like you are. Always staring at us and saying bad things about Jaha. You don't know him."

Bellamy exhales and averts his eyes.

Murphy goes on. "You wish I was still chasing after you, trying to get your approval. Well I learned something. I don't have to try that hard. Jaha cares about me. And he's going to save everyone, just like you couldn't do."

Bellamy breathes harder. His nostrils flare. Murphy always makes him feel this way.

But he doesn't punch him. He doesn't shove him into the grass like he wants to. He doesn't kiss him on the temple like he wants to.

And then Murphy's shouting. He's shouting, "Daddy, Daddy," and he's gripping the rag doll by the throat in a clenched, shaking hand. He doesn't sound like a child, really. It's his normal, gritty, angry voice. But he's not scary. He doesn't have a gun, or threats.

Jaha comes running, eyes full of concern. He looks from Bellamy to Murphy to Bellamy.

And Bellamy steps back, eyes on the ground. He just says, "I didn't touch him."

Murphy doesn't spare Bellamy a glance as Jaha ushers him away.

Jaha's saying gentle things. "Everything's alright, John. Don't worry about anything. Let's go to your tent and talk about your new doll. What are you going to name it? You've got to give it a name."

They're walking away, getting quieter. But Bellamy hears it.

"Its name is Bellamy," says Murphy. Which is fitting, but only because he's still holding it by the throat, fist vibrating with the force of his strangling, its fabric limbs swaying in the wind.

The doll looks peaceful. Bellamy feels like a ghost.


End file.
